


Nobody Ought To Be Alone On Christmas

by ladyknightley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Other, this is all about harry and ron but in a not shippy way so i didn't want to tag it like that jsyk :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:38:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyknightley/pseuds/ladyknightley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter, Auror, has to work on Christmas Day. It's not entirely bad, though...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Ought To Be Alone On Christmas

Harry Potter, seasoned Auror, crawled along the floor as silently as he could, hoping against hope that he could remain hidden so his adversary wouldn’t see him. He was gripping his wand tightly with one hand, and had the other on the new, prototype weapon in his back pocket. It was maybe an unorthodox move, to try to use an additional weapon, especially one that hadn’t been fully tested, when he was alone, but he knew his foe well. He, too, was skilled and talented, and Harry would need all his wits about him if he was to bring him down alone.

The Auror Department was almost entirely unmanned, it being Christmas Day. But he had been left behind to hold the fort—it had only been a year and a half since he’d joined the Department, and so he was just Senior enough to be left alone, in charge for the day (as, then, no attack had been expected). The older Aurors, however, had families and children, and so were given the day off. He knew, eventually, that his time would come: he would be the one sitting at home with his children, whilst some more junior underling slaved away on Christmas.

He was momentarily distracted by the thought of Ginny holding a baby— _their_ baby—or with some small, red-haired children sat around a tree, opening presents... Children were something they talked about together—not something they wanted right now (the opposite, in fact)—but someday. The fact that now he lived in a world where he could think of somedays filled his heart with joy, and—

A sudden noise jolted him out of his reverie, and he cursed himself silently. He needed to keep focused. He was an Auror on a mission, Christmas Day or no. His prey had given himself away, now, though: Harry knew where he was.

He readied himself for his attack, moving silently into position. He checked his wand, and the secret weapon. He was ready. One more quick thought of Ginny—for luck—and then “GOTCHA, YOU FESTIVE—”

His assailant let loose with a war-cry, but it was too late, Harry was firing hundreds and hundreds of tiny baubles out of the Wheezes’ as-yet-unpatented Bauble Blaster he’d kept hidden as his secret weapon, and using his wand to shoot a thick fog of glitter, hoping to render his attacker sightless. But the attacker was fighting back, too, using his own wand to shoot hundreds of strands of tinsel at Harry, which were winding their way around his feet and ankles remarkably like Devil’s Snare, and he had to jump up and down, madly trying to untangle himself from them.

“THINK YOU’D USE MY OWN WEAPONS AGAINST ME, POTTER?” bellowed his enemy. “I’ll get you now!” And he leapt onto a desk, pointing his wand into the air and firing off hundreds and hundreds of jingling bells.

“NOOOO!” cried Harry “Not the sleigh bells! Mercy, mercy!”

He cowered behind an upturned desk, holding his hands up in surrender. “Please, have mercy, mister! It’s _Christmas_!”

“Very well,” acknowledge the other man. “As it is Christmas, I shall grant you your wish.” He lowered his wand, and Harry looked contrite.

“Your kindness and festive spirit is appreciated,” he said. “You sucker!” he added gleefully, pointing his wand at the tinsel which wrapped itself around its own creator so tightly he was put in a sort of full-body-bind, with only his head and face free from the sparkly stuff, and he toppled onto the floor.

“Oh bugger,” said Ron. “I suppose you win this round.”

“I am the champion!” sang Harry, feeling only somewhat disappointed when his best friend didn’t join in with the next line.

“If you get me out of this, I’ll help you set the office straight,” he said, and Harry obliged. They had made a huge mess of the entire floor—desks were upturned, piles of paper had fallen to the floor, and there was a huge mass of tinsel, baubles and sleigh bells all over the place—but it took the two of them about ten seconds to right everything using magic.

“If we’d known those sorts of spells a few years ago, our dorm would’ve been the neatest at Hogwarts,” Harry commented. Then he caught Ron’s eye. “Nah,” they said together, and laughed.

“By the way, the Bauble Blaster worked really well,” he added. “Good job on that one.”

“Cheers,” Ron grinned. “I still need to iron out a few creases in it—some of the prototypes have a tendency of exploding when you don’t want them to, you know? Bit of a bugger, coming in to the stockroom to find baubles everywhere, and we can’t sell ’em like that—health and safety hazard, isn’t it? But we’re hoping by next Christmas to have ironed those kinks out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Harry said confidently.

“And that’ll be it—my first Wheeze! My own invention, on the shelves!” Ron grinned, straightening up the pictures of Hermione on his desk. 

They slumped back down in their chairs, both putting their feet up on their respective desks. “I’ll drink to that—or I would if we were allowed to, on duty. Want a mince pie instead?” Harry offered, holding the plate out.

“No thanks,” Ron said. Harry stared, and Ron patted his stomach. “Saving myself for later, aren’t I?” he explained. “Mum’ll be cooking up a feast all day; gotta work up an appetite, you know. Only six more hours to go, and there’s only so many times we can play the festive-attack game! It’s my turn to win, next time, by the way.”

“We’re halfway there!” Harry said cheerfully, glancing at Fabian Prewett’s battered old watch. The shift had started at six in the morning and would end twelve hours later, when another unlucky Auror would come to relieve them. They, at least, would get Christmas dinner with the Weasleys, so it wasn’t all bad.

“We are,” Ron agreed. “I wonder if Hermione’s going to get _two_ Christmas dinners today...lucky sod.”

“She’s at her parents’ until this afternoon, isn’t she?” Harry asked.

“Yeah; she’ll come to Mum and Dad’s when we finish, so she can do food and presents with us,” Ron said. “She’s stopping over, then we’re both going back to her parents’ tomorrow for Boxing Day. You and Ginny could come too, if you’d like.”

“I’ll ask Gin, see what she wants to do,” Harry said. “She didn’t say she had plans or anything this morning, so we could join you, if you want us.”

“You saw her this morning?” Ron asked.

“Yeah, she came round really early to give me my present before I left for work,” Harry replied, starting to smile at the recollection.

“What was it?”

“Er...novelty Christmas boxers,” Harry said quickly. “You probably don’t want to see them.”

“Correct,” said Ron, even more quickly. “You’re my best mate, and all, but...”

“Yeah,” Harry said.

They caught each other’s eye and burst out laughing.

“Oh well,” Harry said, once they’d stopped. He glanced at his watch again, and sighed. “Guess that killed another ten minutes, eh?”

“Could be worse,” Ron said. “Let’s face it, we’re bored at work because there’s nothing to do. If we weren’t bored, it’d be because there’s a madman on the loose, or some Death Eater resurgence or something. And I’d much rather spend my Christmas Day bored than dealing with _that_.”

“You can go home, you know,” Harry said.

Ron looked at him. “That is the eighteenth time you’ve said this since this morning. _No_.”

“It’s only me who drew the short straw,” Harry continued. “ _I’m_ the one on the books for Christmas Day, not you. You could be home, with your family.”

“They’re your family too!” Ron said, as he had eighteen times before. “They’ll wait for us, and we’ll do Christmas tonight. It’s not even that long to wait, anymore. It’s cool.”

And Harry thought, for the eighteenth time that day, and millionth time in the nine years he’d known him, how lucky he was to have Ron. Ron, who was not supposed to be in work today, who’d got lucky and not pulled the Christmas Day shift with the Aurors, who’d come in anyway—unpaid—to keep Harry company, because he could, even though he’d spent the past three days helping George in the shop. Ron, who’d stayed with him for Christmas in their first year at Hogwarts, having known him four months. Ron, who’d given him family, and love, and best-friendship, and so much more.

“You can go, though,” he said anyway. “If you want to. You don’t have to stay with me.”

“Nah,” Ron said easily, gesturing for Harry to pass him the plate of mince pies. “You’re stuck with me.”

“How awful,” Harry grinned, and reached over to cheers his mince pie against Ron’s. “Merry Christmas, eh?”

“Merry Christmas,” said Ron. “And may we have many, many more!”

**Author's Note:**

> Entirely inspired by that tumblr post about Ron Weasley being the kid to stay with Harry for Christmas in PS and how if you don’t love Ron Weasley you must also not love friendship and love; also dedicated to all those working today and tomorrow. You all rock xxx
> 
> PS: Merry Christmas and much love to everyone who's read and left kudos/comments. I am overwhelmed by your kindness!


End file.
